There With You
by Fuuraibou
Summary: With the fall of Umbrella four years in the past, Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield thought that the ordeal was over. But a new one has begun, a battle between their very souls. Rated R for language, please R/R and tell me what you think.
1. Runaway

There With You

Chapter One: Runaway

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"I'm already there, Take a look around. 

I'm the sunshine in your hair, I'm the shadow on the ground.

I'm the whisper in the wind, I'm your imaginary friend. 

And I know that I'm in your prayers, 

I'm already there." 

Lonestar- "I'm already there."

The cycle stopped on the shoulder of the desert highway. The rider shut off the engine, and stepped off the bike, carefully leaning it on the kickstand. He brushed the dirt off his black leather jacket, and removed his helmet. The waning day shone back and reflected off of the sunglasses he wore. He ran a hand through his red hair, much longer than what it used to be. Hell, so much had changed in four years. His hair was the least of his problems.

__

So I'm finally here, he thought as he pulled the thermos out of a pouch on his Harley. He swigged from it. Dammit, coffee was still warm, thank God. He sat on his bike, and looked towards the sky, sipping out of the thermos. It would be a nice night, one that he wouldn't probably ride through, though. He was tired. Hell, if you spent a year on the road, wouldn't you be? With a final glance at the sky, he reattached his helmet, put the thermos in the pouch, started the bike, and Leon S. Kennedy began the long trek across the California desert.

"Hey, I'm home!" the blonde 15-year-old shouted triumphantly, hoping to be noticed. The lights were out, and nobody seemed to be home.

"Hey, anyone here?" she shouted again, going into the kitchen. Nobody there either.

"What the hell is going on?!" she shouted, running up the stairs as fast as her legs would let her. The door to the master bedroom was open, and a tall woman, skinny with reddish hair, stood looking out the window at the Illinois sunset.

"What's wrong?" the girl asked the taller, older woman, who was wrapped in a thick velour robe. The woman shuddered, and reached over to the bureau next to her, picking up an envelope.

"Here, Sherry," she said, handing it to her. "This came for you in the mail today." Sherry knew immediately whom it was from...and suddenly knew why Claire was so upset. Leon had sent another letter with another hundred dollar bill. She smiled...but then grew upset. Leon had been gone, what, a year and a half? But he never forgot Sherry. No, there was always the Christmas package...usually a card, a sweater or two, and a couple hundred dollars; or the birthday card stuffed with cash. Heck, he even sent her letters with money just because. But he never came to see her. Not since he left. Sherry immediately yanked out the letter, and opened it. It said the same thing as all of them did. Never saying where he was, where he's going, when he's coming back. No, it was just cheap talk signed 'Love, Leon.' He never even asked about Claire. That made her angry.

"It's postmarked from Arizona;" Sherry noticed the envelope with the only clue to his whereabouts.

"I saw that," Claire answered, trying not to cry. Sherry drew closer to Claire, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Claire was just barely hanging on to a thread...and that thread was a shorter than average blonde 15 year old girl.

Leon caught the glimpse of a Love's Truck Stop off of the highway, and decided to take advantage. It was almost too dark to ride without lights, and Leon was never one to ride at night. Besides, his fuel was low and gas here was only a buck-twenty five, lowest he'd seen in two hundred miles. It had a cafe, too, and that would be a big help to the hunger he'd only been settling with melting Caramello bars. He hit the exit, and rode up to the pumps. He got off the bike, and filled the Harley's unusually large tank, and rolled it up to a place where he could chain and padlock it. That bike was awfully special to him. He put his helmet in the bag, and pulled out his wallet. The fluorescent lights lit up the night sky, and it nearly blinded him.  


__

Hmmmm... he thought. _Only $400 left in cash...time for a withdrawal._ But Leon knew that he was in no need for cash. His buddies with the Department of Internal Affairs and the Federal Bureau of Investigation had opened him up an account that would make Bill Gates do a double-take, thanks to the work he did with them during the Umbrella mishaps.

__

Mishaps... he thought. _Is that what you call thousands of people losing their lives due to a deadly outbreak?_ Oh, hell, it didn't matter. At least he had cash to keep this fiasco going. That's all it really amounted too. Here he was, the brave Leon Scott Kennedy, one of the very men who brought the mega conglomerate corporation Umbrella down to its knees, running from everything he loved and cared about, now about to eat a greasy dinner in a greasy truck stop and head back out on the damned greasy ass highway. He shook his head, letting his long red hair fall to his shoulders as he pushed open the door to the restaurant. He took a seat at the counter, where a young waitress in a white top and blue jeans approached him.

__

'Kinda looks like Claire...' he thought mournfully, thinking about the day a year and a half ago when he ran out on her and hit the open road, all because....wait a sec, what was it even about? Oh, hell, it didn't matter. Claire was fuming, and Leon just couldn't take anymore. That was all there was to it, and there wasn't any more. But, why was he running? What was keeping him from...

"You aren't from around here," the young lady said, eyeing him carefully.

"And you're very good at stating the obvious," Leon answered ruefully.

"Hey, cowboy, take it easy," she said, laughing. "What can I get you?"

"Just a Coke," he said. She looked at him, and laughed again.

"A Coke?" she said. "I know that you've been traveling a good way. Those are Illinois plates on that bike. How about I get you something? My treat."

"If you please," Leon said, rudely. The lady shot him a smile, winked at him, and went back into the kitchen, leaving Leon swarming alone in his head with a million different thoughts. She returned sometime later with a large cheeseburger, and his sought-after Coke.  
  
"So where you going?" she asked, leaning over the counter, staring him straight in the eye.

"Where ever the road takes me," he answered. Hey, it sounded better than _as far away from Claire Redfield as I can get._

"Sounds typical," she said, shrugging. She took another good look at him, and her face lit up.

"Hey, you look awfully familiar," she said. "I saw someone who looks like you in USA Today a couple of years ago."

"Probably just coincidence," he replied gruffly, taking a bite out of the cheeseburger.

"Eh, maybe. But still....wait a minute, I just remembered!" she shouted. "You're FBI, aren't you? Larry...Lenny..."

"Leon. And I'm retired," he answered.

"I knew you looked familiar," she told him. "Even with your hair long and that beard, I knew you looked familiar."

"I get that a lot," he said, finishing the burger. "Thanks for your hospitality."

"And where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"I'm going into town and renting a room," he told her. "By morning, I'll be heading for Palo Alto."

"Well, my shift ends in an hour," she replied slyly. "You're more than welcome to stay at my place." Leon smiled, and shook his head. 

"It's just an offer I'll have to refuse," he said. "But, thank you," he added as he headed towards the door.

"What's her name?" the waitress responded. Leon stopped dead in his tracks, and spun around to look at her.

"Excuse me?" he said, doing a double take.

"Who's your girl?" she asked again. "And why are you running from her?"

"Claire," he said.

"Why did you run away from her?" the waitress looked at Leon with sympathetic eyes.

"I'm not running from her," he replied gruffly.

"Well, what are you running from?" she asked.

"Myself."

"Hey, wake up!" the husky voice blared over the answer machine. Claire covered her ears with a pillow, and tried to get back to sleep.

"Hey, dammit, unless you want to hear my Beethoven styling in the key of burp flat, then you'll answer the damn phone!" Oh, great. It was Chris. Claire sighed, and picked up the phone.

"Good morning, Chris," she sarcastically said.

"Morning? The hell you talkin' about? It's one o'clock in the afternoon," Chris replied. Claire glanced at her alarm clock, realizing he was right.

"Holy shit," Claire said, sitting up on the bed.

"Yeah, no kidding," Chris answered. "So, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Just a late night," Claire replied.

"Late night? That doesn't sound like you, Claire," he said, thinking. "Oh, no. He sent Sherry another letter, didn't he?"

"Chris, please, don't start!" Claire groaned into the phone.

"Well, shit, Claire! For the sake of ever-lovin' God, would you just get your mind off the little bastard and live again!" Chris shouted.

"Chris, I asked you..." Claire replied.

"Hell no, I won't leave it alone. Dammit, if Jill wasn't pregnant, I'd hunt him down and blow his fucking brains out!"

"No you wouldn't, Chris. You're a cop. Remember, first-degree murder is a crime punishable by death?"

"Fuck Death. I'd do it, you know damn good and well I would."

"Chris, you're..."

"What, Claire? Over-reacting? Dammit, he fucking ran out on you! He's probably fucked every waitress from here to Phoenix!"

"Chris, he wouldn't do that."

"Yeah, just like he wouldn't run out on you. Heh heh. It's time you got out...met some new people."

"I don't know..."

"You remember Rick from the station?"

"Oh, please don't tell me..."

"If you wanted to, you two could come to dinner with Jill and me sometime."

"I'll...think about it."

"That's all I'm asking. You mind if I come over today?"

"What's stopping you? You live right across the street!"

"Oh, yeah. But, I thought I might as well ask you."

"Asking never stopped you when I was in college!"

"Well...uh...oh, hell, never mind. I'll see you in a couple of hours." Claire laughed, and hung up the phone. She stood up, and looked out the window. The sun hung well overhead the quiet suburb of Chicago. God only knew where Leon was now, but Claire would give anything just to find out.

Leon sat up on the hard motel bed. _Jesus, I paid forty bucks for this?_ He stood up, and put his tattered blue jeans on, and went looking through his bag for a fresh t-shirt. He hadn't done laundry since his brief stint in Arizona, and the clothes in the bag were beginning to stink something horrible. He found there was one more clean shirt. He slipped it on, and went and collected his jacket off of the coat hook. He snapped his chaps onto his legs, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door, but something stopped him. He wondered if Sherry was home at eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning. Normally, she didn't leave to go anywhere until noon. But hell, that was almost two years ago. Who knew if her schedule had changed? But, Leon felt a wave of remorse over him, and walked over to the hotel phone. He picked it up, pulled out his phone card, and dialed the house.

"Hello?" came the shaky, but awfully familiar answer.

"Is this Sherry?" came the answer through the telephone. Claire was aghast. This voice was a gruff, and familiar voice. One she hadn't heard in a long time. But she couldn't put a finger on it.

"No, she's at a friend's house," she answered.

Leon was scared. If this wasn't Sherry, was it Claire? He really didn't want to talk to her...hell, he was afraid to. But why couldn't he hang up the phone?

"Cl....Cla...Claire?" he stuttered.

Claire was confused. Who the hell was this? 

"Yes, who is this?" And all of a sudden she knew.

"Leon?" she asked.

Leon was still uncomfortable. She had pegged him now, there was no getting out of it.

"Ye...yeah," he stuttered again. "How...how are you?"

"I've seen better days," Claire answered.

"We all have. How's Sherry?"

"She's doing better. She's really grown."

"I'd believe so."

"So where are you at now?"

"I'm on my way to Palo Alto, California. I believe I might be able to find work there."

"Why would you need to work? You've got multi-millions."

"I...just do. Please don't question me."

"You're still the same, Leon. When are you coming to see her?"

Leon's mind stalled. When was he going to see her?

"I...I don't know. I'll try to make some time soon."

Claire didn't answer. She just hung her head. She felt tears prodding at her eyes, and she wiped them away.

"Look, I promise. I'll try to make it back soon." Leon had to know how she was feeling, because he was actually trying to be civil. She hung up the phone, and laid down on the bed. She began crying...like she hadn't cried in years. The door to the bedroom opened, and Chris walked in. He saw his sister's condition, and felt a wave of anger flush over him. He promised himself that he would kill Leon Kennedy. And he'd kill him soon.

**__**

I'm turning over a new leaf. This is something I've never tried before, and I've decided to give it a shot. Please review and tell me what you think.


	2. Homecoming

There With You

Chapter Two: Homecoming

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"Are you ever so silent when she wanted to talk.

Or couldn't keep quiet when she needed a hug.

Come on too strong, when a little's too much.

How many, how many say I?

Go on and say yes, and really mean no.

Would you rather guess when you just don't know

And then say I love you, but aren't willing to show.

How many, how many say I?"

Van Halen: How Many Say I?

Leon hung up the phone, and plopped back down on the motel bed. _How could I be so careless?! So damn STUPID!!_. He didn't even pause to think that it wouldn't be Sherry who picked up the phone. That it wouldn't be Sherry who answered. Now he had compromised himself, making a promise that he really had no intention of keeping. He had revealed where he was, and now, nothing was keeping Claire from finding him. Or Chris, for that matter. Most likely by now, Chris was probably over at the house, bashing on Leon and telling Claire what a fool she was, mixing in a couple of death threats on him. Definitely one reason he was glad he was gone. Chris seemed duller than most, but Leon knew better. An intelligence was present in him...one that Leon preferred not to dwell on. Chris was a soldier, born and bred. And even the lowliest grunts had a useable brain. And Claire...why the hell was she still sticking around in his mind? He had run out so long ago, yet part of him yearned to be with her. Yearned to never leave her side.

"But it's too late," he whispered, grabbing the leather biker jacket that had shielded him from almost two years of attacks of the elements. "It's all just too...Damn...LATE!" With an unforeseen rage feeding into his right fist, Leon swung at the closest thing to him...a mildewed white wall of the seedy hotel in which he had spent the past night. Not even the pain of a rusty nail scraping across his fist encountered his mind...no, only the pain of losing Claire Redfield due to his own uncontrollable mind. He removed his bleeding fist from the wall, the open wound scraping across the plastered pieces of wallboard, irritating him further.

"DAMMIT!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He clutched his bleeding fist, and began swearing some more. Fate seemed to stack up all odds against this man, and the twenty-eight year old Kennedy was feeling the pressure. He had unwillingly been transformed into a soldier himself, instead of the lowly rookie cop he so desperately wished he still was. He shook his head, and grasped a piece of cloth out of his bag, wrapping the injury in it. He slipped on his jacket, grabbed his backpack and helmet bag, and headed for the door, making sure his chaps were properly adjusted. As he opened it, he was face to face with an elderly lady, more likely than not the proprietor of the place.

"Now what the hell is going on in here?!" she shouted, probably more concerned with the broken wall than the injured young man standing before her. "I heard shouting, and a wall breaking!"

"Just a slip-up, ma'am," Leon told her. "Tell me how much, and I'll pay to get it fixed." He took a checkbook out of his back pocket. "$250 be enough? I'll just make it $300 and pay for the room, too." He quickly scribbled out the

check, and plastered a signature. "Just fill it out to whoever needs it." He thrust the check in her hands, and she stood speechless. Leon just gave a toothy grin, picked up his bags, and left the room.

"THE HELL IS THIS?!" Chris shouted, his voice echoing in the large bedroom. Claire sat, her back facing her brother, holding her head in her hands, but no more tears would flow.

"Nothing for you to be concerned with, Chris," she stated. Chris grumbled something unrecognizable, and sat down next to his sister.

"It has me concerned, Claire," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I've _never_ seen you like this before. I don't understand why you've been like this."

"Nothing for you to..." Claire began, before she was interrupted by Chris.

"Yes it is," he said. "And it's time for me to interfere."

"What are you talking about?" Claire asked.

"Friday night," he began. "I'm taking Jill out to that new Italian place on 5th Boulevard. And I want you to come with us and meet Rick."

"Chris, I don't know," Claire said. 

"Well, I do. Did it sound like I'm giving you a choice in the matter?" 

"Chris, don't..."

"I mean it, Claire. Friday night: you, Jill, Rick, and I are going to enjoy a relaxing dinner at DeMarco's. Do you understand?"

"If it will get you off my back, then, ok," Claire replied.

"I knew you'd see things my way," Chris replied. He stood up, and went towards the door leading out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Before he left, he turned back to Claire.

"It'll be fun. I promise." He winked at her as he left the room, leaving Claire to her own devices. She plopped back on the bed, wondering what had possessed Leon Kennedy to even think about calling Sherry. _What's with him?_ she thought. _He's proven himself over time and time again that he doesn't give a damn about what happens. He's only in it for himself. Maybe Chris is right...maybe I shouldn't care what he does. He's nothing anymore...just a bunch of good memories, mixed with some bad ones. But why does he just stick around? Why am I waiting for him to return?_ She closed her eyes, and covered herself in the heavy down comforter, praying that sleep would bring comfort...a rest without dreams of _him._

"HEY!! OVER HERE!" Leon quickly checked behind him, and saw the young waitress he'd met the other night running over to him and the Harley. She was in her white shirt and black jeans, and her face was red as she ran to catch up with him. He stopped the cycle, and she caught up, panting.

"Leaving....so.....soon, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked. "You didn't even say good-bye."

"I've got to hit Palo Alto by noon. Gonna try and find a job," he replied, removing the full-face helmet.

"Well, I just wanted to see if you'd like to have a cup of coffee with me before you left."

"Thank you...uh..." he stuttered, trying to remember what name, if any, she'd given him the night before.

"Kirsten," she replied, thrusting her hand out. "Kirsten Morris." He grabbed her hand, and shook it.

"Well, Kirsten," he said. "I really must be going. Sorry."

"Nonsense," she replied. "Follow me. I know this great cafe on the eastern side of town." Before he could reply, she had ran back to her older model Corvette(one that was so low to the ground Leon couldn't imagine entering), and she pulled in front of him, motioning him to follow. He resigned to her persistence, fitted his helmet, and followed. She was passing through the nice neighborhoods of the city, beautiful houses with picture-perfect lawns, and just the right amount of shade. It was if he had left reality and rode into a sitcom-neighborhood. The streets, unlike those he'd seen in a long time, were perfect, as well. No potholes, no bumps, all freshly painted. This was the big-money side of town. He kinda liked it. But as he slowed to admire the scenery, the cherry-red Corvette roared ahead of him, beckoning him to follow. And he did just that. Kirsten turned at an intersection, which led to a nice looking 50's style diner, one of those that you found in old, remodeled train cars. She parked the car, and stood outside, leaning on it as Leon pulled in himself. He kicked off the engine, placed the bike on a kickstand, chaining it to a post in front of the diner. Kirsten laughed at this procedure.

"What, you think I'm going to let someone get their hands on this baby?" he asked.

"Must be real special to you," she replied. As a matter of fact, it was, for reasons Leon didn't like to dwell on.

"It is," he said, forcing himself to block images of his own beautiful suburban Chicago home from his head. "Better if you don't ask."

"Suit yourself," she replied, shrugging her shoulders in a way that really reminded him of Claire. "Come on, let's go." She grabbed his arm, and pushed him into the doors of the diner. It was the typical train car diner, relics from nostalgic Americana hanging on the walls, cooks bustling around the grill out front, and customers just sitting around, chatting. Kirsten led Leon into a booth in the back, and they sat, facing each other.

"So, where did you say you're splitting off to?" Kirsten asked him.

"Rumor has it that they're looking for patrol officers in Palo Alto, so I'm going to see if I can't get in on that," Leon answered.

"Oh really," Kirsten replied. "It seems that they're looking for officers everywhere. You could go just about anywhere."

"I have my reasons," Leon said. Kirsten was about to say something, bit they were approached by a waitress.

"What can I get you to drink?" she asked.

"Coffee," Leon replied.

"Same," Kirsten answered. The waitress scribbled something on a pad, and walked off. "And just what are your reasons?"

"Something better off left unknown," Leon answered. The waitress returned with the coffee, and stood at the table.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No, thank you," Kirsten replied. The waitress left the check at the table, and Kirsten returned to interrogating Leon.

"I want to know," she said. "Why Palo Alto?"

"Please, Kirsten," Leon pleaded. "Don't ask."

"It's too late for that now," she said. "Tell me." Leon became enraged.

"I want to be as far from everything as possible!" he shouted. "As far from myself as I can be!" 

"Christ," Kirsten muttered. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm...sorry. But the point is, that I just need a change. I'm tired of being someone I'm not...of being some kind of hero. I just want to get away, and be _me_ for a change," Leon replied.

"I'm no kind of expert," she said. "But I can tell that something back in Illinois has you fucked over a barrel. Leon, I can see that something is digging in you and won't let go. You have to face your problems...your fears, or else, they'll just follow you until the day you die." Leon was held aghast. Could it be true, that he would never push Claire Redfield out of his head? Why was he tormented so?

"So," he said. "What is it that you think I should do?"

"Well, I think you get the hell out of here. Head north on the interstate, and then west. And get the hell back to Chicago." Leon looked at her, and realized that for once...maybe it was harmful to run.

"You really think so?" he asked.

"I really do." Leon smiled, and stood up. Kirsten stood up, and stood in front of him.

"Thank you, Kirsten. You've finally helped me make sense of this mess," he told her, hugging her. 

"Aw, no problem," she replied. She took a napkin, and wrote something on it, handing it to Leon. 

"I'll get the tab, if you want to leave," Leon told her, and with a wave, she did. Leon stood there for a minute, and looked at what she'd written.

_'To Leon, who has found his way. Let me know what happens._

(291-678-4473)

(guardian_angel@dptnet.net)

Your friend, 

Kirsten Allison Morris

_Guardian angel, indeed,_ Leon thought, sticking the napkin in his pocket, and heading out the door.

Sherry stood out in the waning July sunshine, waiting for Jill to answer the door. Chris had left moments ago, heading into Chicago to work his graveyard shift. Luckily, he was a lieutenant, basically a desk job. Jill would panic, knowing that Chris was patrolling the evening streets. Jill always seemed a bit emotional, but being eight months pregnant really didn't help matters any. Growing impatient, she began pounding on the door instead of ringing the dinky little bell.

"JUST A MINUTE!!" Sherry heard Jill Redfield's voice. She heard a soft grunt as she lifted herself off the couch, and opened the door. "Sherry!" Jill shouted. "Come on in." She opened the door, and Sherry stepped into the lavish, but small, living room. Two leather couches, white walls with blue carpet, and Chris' favorite, a 60 inch big screen Mitsubishi TV. Jill made her way back to the couch, and Sherry couldn't help to notice Jill. While she was fully showing her pregnancy, she wasn't really large. She was a bit bigger, but still, you could still notice her smaller frame. "Come on, sit down," Jill replied. "No matter what Chris has told you, I won't bite." Sherry laughed, and sat down by Jill. "So how did Chris bribe you to come over this time?"

"He didn't have to," Sherry told her. "I wanted to."

"Didn't have nothing else better to?"

"You nailed it," Sherry laughed. Jill, also finding this humorous, tried to stand up, but Sherry jumped up.

"What do you need?" Sherry asked.

"The phone," Jill said. "I can get it."

"No," Sherry said, rushing into the hallway that led into the small kitchen, grabbing the cordless phone that hung on the doorframe. "I got it." She walked over, and handed it to Jill.

"Thanks," she told her. "What do you want for dinner. I'm ordering out this evening."

"Whatever," Sherry said. "Surprise me."

"Well, I hope pizza will do," Jill told her. Sherry nodded, and plopped back down on the couch. Jill made her order, and set the phone down on the glass coffee table. "Thanks for coming, Sherry. With Chris out, it just gets real lonely around here."

"No problem," Sherry said. "Anytime."

__

Friday night...

"Whew," Chris whistled. "Lookin' good, sis." Claire didn't get what he was talking about, she was simply in a gray t-shirt and khaki pants. "Rick's gonna get a kick out of you."

"That's what I'm worried about," Claire replied, picking up a black ball cap, putting it on, slipping her ponytail through the little hole in the back. Jill, although very pregnant, was looking stunning, even in maternity wear. But Chris...t-shirt, blue jeans, and denim vest was dressy for the elder Redfield. The three of them left the living room of Claire's house, stepping out onto the walkway towards the 1999 Chevy Cavalier that sat in the driveway. The trio climbed in, and Chris gunned the motor.

"Careful, Chris. Remember, I'm carrying your child?" Jill warned as Chris put on his dark black Oakleys.

"Careful?" he said. "Not in my dictionary." He pulled out of the driveway, and sped off down the street. Claire admired the neighborhood she'd been living in for the past four years. A nice, stereotypical picture of suburbia.

Claire became lost in thought, until Chris broke through. His car phone rang, and he spoke for a minute. Hanging up, he turned to Claire.

"Ricky got caught up in some paperwork at the station, but he's going to meet us at DeMarco's," Chris told her. Claire nodded, and turned back to the window. Chris sped onto a highway, and began pushing the little four-cylinder engine. He finally slowed down, taking an exit into the business district, but none of them noticed the monstrous Harley-Davidson heading in the opposite direction.

Leon was close now. He was near the exit to the business district, when he noticed the speeding silver Cavalier fly by him on the two-lane highway. He recognized the driver...but what really caught his attention was the passenger in the back seat...Claire.

"Holy hell," he muttered underneath the roaring of the twin-cylinder engine. He cut across the center line, and fell into traffic. Many other travelers swore, honked, or gave one-fingered salutes. He didn't care. He gunned the cycle, and followed behind a couple cars, making sure that the Chevy was in his sight. Chris took an exit, and Leon decided to follow. He kept his distance, although they probably wouldn't recognize him. Chris whirled around into a parking lot of a restaurant. Not good. Leon didn't need to make a public scene, so when the Redfield party climbed out of the car, and headed for the front doors, Leon kept going on, swearing under his breath.

Claire climbed out of the car, and looked to the road to her left. A Harley...an awfully familiar one...sped off. The rider, in a black full-face helmet, turned to look at them, and kept going on. Claire felt a sob rise up in her throat, and a look of distress rose up in her face. Chris caught wind of it, and walked over to her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's him...I know it. That biker that just sped off."

"You're kidding yourself. Now come on, let's get inside. Rick's already here, so let's don't keep him waiting," Chris said, almost having to drag her inside.

"Dammit, Chris, I know it was him. Remember, I bought the bike. I'm pretty sure I could pick it out of a crowd," Claire said.

"Claire, I got one word for you: mass-production," Chris condescended. "Now come on, let's just try and relax tonight." Claire resigned herself, and they walked into the restaurant. It was a nice place, all around. Thank God it wasn't one of those suit-and-tie deals. They'd be thrown out of there in a second. A waiter, simply in a red shirt and black slacks, stood at the door.

"Would you like a table?" he asked with an evident Italian accent.

"We've got one. Redfield-Calvin," Chris answered.

"Of course," the waiter answered. "Mr. Calvin has been expecting your arrival." The waiter led them across the red-carpeted floors, and towards a red-clothed table, where Rick Calvin sat. Claire immediately noticed he was tall...Chris was 5'9, and Rick had to be at least two inches taller, probably closer to 6'0. His black hair was slicked back, and he had small framed glasses. He was still in his uniform, which didn't surprise Claire. He stood as he saw the three coming, and walked over to Chris.

"Hey, bud," he said, the southern accent in his voice obvious. He reached out, and shook Chris' hand. He turned to Jill, and did the same. But when he saw Claire, he was paralyzed.

"Excuse me," he said, reaching for her hand, kissing it. "I believe I've never had the pleasure." Claire felt woozy...dizzy. She hadn't been treated like this a long time.

"Thank you..." she said, feeling the heat of her blushing. They all took a seat, and began chatting...about Louisiana, his home, about herself, and just about anything. He was interesting, and a very good listener. Finally, they were served side salads, with a rich red wine. Claire pushed it around with her fork, not interested in the food but in the man sitting in front of her. She listened to what he had to say, told him what he wanted to know, but basically, it was going through one ear and out the other. That's when the wine hit in...and she had to pee...bad.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, very abruptly. "I have to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

Leon sat on the bike, peering through the front window of the restaurant, making sure that he couldn't be seen by the very ones he was observing. Claire, her brother and his wife, and some other guy. Leon felt something he'd never thought of before...jealousy. They sat, dining and talking. He saw her beautiful smile as the mystery man spoke to her, and it hurt him. He sat on the bike with his helmet off, just watching. Claire rose up from her seat, and went somewhere. He just couldn't tell where.

"So, Rick. What do you think?" Chris asked, like he was talking to a high school buddy in the locker rooms.

"She's very nice. Gorgeous, too," Rick said. "I really like her." They continued their discussion, until Jill noticed a specter from an age long forgotten sitting on a Harley across the street. She turned, and prodded Chris.

"Dammit, Chris," she said. "Claire was right. Look." Chris turned, and saw the leather-decked Leon Kennedy across the street. His hair was shoulder-length and strewn about, and he had a Mark McGwire-looking goatee. But it was no doubt Leon Scott Kennedy.

"Son of a bitch," Chris whispered, jumping from his seat, and he ran towards the door. The other patrons of the facility watched with interest as he bolted out the door.

Leon watched as Chris Redfield stormed out of DeMarco's, reaching under his vest for a nine-millimeter Browning HP. Leon threw on his helmet, and kick-started the bike. It roared to life, and he gunned it...straight towards Chris. Chris, on the other hand, who had just slid a clip into the pistol and slid the action back to chamber a round, saw the charging cycle as a death threat, and dodged out of the way. Leon slid the bike around, kicking dust up as a cover, and Chris heard him speed down the street. He so desperately wanted to take even a potshot at the bastard on the bike...but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Too many witnesses.

_Another strike, Leon,_ he thought. _First you ruin my sister's dreams, and then you ruin the only chance she might have to recover them. I'll find you, someday. You can bet your last dollar on that one, pal._

****

Thanks to my beta-reader and good friend, Tara Depew(I hope that's right...) 


	3. New Horizons

****

THERE WITH YOU

CHAPTER THREE: NEW HORIZONS

__

"So here I am askin' forgiveness

And prayin' that you'll understand

Don't think I'd take you for granted

Girl I know just how lucky I am

Though you deserve so much better

You won't find devotion more true

'cause I've had the best of intentions…

Girl I've had the best of intentions…

I've had the best of intentions

Lovin' you."

--Travis Tritt "Best of Intentions"

It was all over. He had come to grips with that much. Now as he trekked down Highway 95 on a Harley Softail he saw once again what he'd done, or for that matter, the lack thereof. He edged the bike over into the breakdown lane on a bridge and got off of it. He leaned up against the rail, staring down at the tranquil waters below. Only flowing one path…no body could ever change that. No matter all the twists and turns, it would always end up in the same place. Leon realized that he'd found a rather ironic metaphor for his life. No matter all the twists and turns: he'd still be in the same place, Umbrella or no Umbrella. Raccoon or no Raccoon. Claire or no Claire. He gave a weak smile and turned back to the bike, only then feeling a little vibration in his jacket pocket. His cell phone was going off.

"Kennedy," he answered.

"It's been a while, Leon!" a familiar voice answered. "How's things in Chicago?" He couldn't help but force a smile.

"Better than I would've thought, Kirsten," he answered. "Seems things have moved on without me."

Kirsten let out a laugh. _Her laugh,_ Leon thought. _Kinda sounds like Claire's._ "Don't tell me that you're just going to give up, are you?"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?" Leon asked.

"You'll find that when it comes to love, Leon, you'll be able to do whatever it takes," Kirsten said. "So, you've got to get her back someway, somehow."

Leon stood perplexed. He couldn't remember even mentioning Claire. How could she have…_it's confusing enough. Just stop thinking and listen to the woman._

"She was with another guy tonight," Leon replied. "How's that one?"

"Here's the real question," Kirsten shot back. "Do you think she's happy? Did she look happy tonight?" Leon hung his head and began to think. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes…Leon could always tell when there was something wrong just by looking at her eyes. And there was definitely something wrong. Something gone…something missing.

"Just do what you have to do, Leon," Kirsten said. "No matter the outcome, just make sure you have no regrets." And she hung up. Leon slipped the phone back into his pocket and walked back over to the bridge. 

"Have no regrets…" he whispered. "I guess that means…"

He climbed back on the bike, not even digging his helmet out of the bag, turned around and sped back towards the suburbs.

"Hey shrimp, is Claire still up?" Chris asked, poking his head through the door. Sherry snapped her attention from the TV set and walked over. Chris walked in and closed the door.

"She's torn up pretty bad," Sherry said. "What happened tonight?"

"Just…nothing," Chris quickly answered. "Is she asleep?"

"I don't think so," Sherry answered. "You can go up and check, I guess."

Chris ruffled the small fifteen year old's hair. "Thanks, kid. I'll come back down in just a minute." He turned to the blue carpeted staircase and climbed up into the second story. He turned down the hall towards Claire's room, but for some reason, some pictures hanging on the wall got his attention. Sherry's school picture from this year…Claire when everyone was at Yellowstone…himself and Jill at their wedding…but then he found one that unnerved him. It was a small one, not big at all. He stopped and looked at it. It was taken at a Fourth of July barbecue a couple of years ago: himself and Leon. Chris' eyes lowered for a minute. Suddenly, he began remembering a conversation that he and Jill had shared earlier in the evening:

"What the hell is he doing back here? I should've killed him." Jill sat back in the recliner and stared back at her pacing husband. 

"Chris, you're being a little overprotective here," Jill said. "So what? He came back to Chicago. It's a free country, isn't it?"

"But following us to the restaurant?" Chris shouted back. "Nearly running me over? That's a little past _free_, don't you think?"

"Hell, Christopher, you pulled your gun on him!" Jill shot. "What was he supposed to do, stand in the middle of the road and say 'Here I am, shoot me!'?"

"Would have made me respect him a whole lot more," Chris quietly answered. Jill shook her head.

"You respected him once," Jill stated. "Maybe he just thought that life here wasn't what he really needed, and now he's figured out that maybe…just maybe…he's made a mistake. You can't go on hating him forever, Chris. We owe him way too much. Don't you remember Madrid?"

Chris put his hand to his forehead and thought back. Almost five years ago…Jill, Chris, Claire, and Barry had flown into Madrid, Spain and infiltrated a regional office of Umbrella. Somehow, _they_ had found out of their plans, and they all were captured. Leon, at the time, was an active agent with the FBI's Special Investigations unit. Wires got crossed and he learned of their captivity; immediately, he and his father, Scott (another SI agent), came to Madrid, broke into the compound themselves, and attempted a rescue. After a long firefight, Scott was captured himself, and brutally murdered before Leon's eyes. Instead of giving in to his grief, Leon continued to fight his way through the compound and rescued the others. Chris hadn't forgotten. Something like that was impossible to forget. But still…the way he treated Claire…there was no excuse.

"I'll take it as you remember," Jill said. "Leon's been through a lot. But he's always come through in the end."

"We've all been through a lot," Chris abruptly answered. "But still…"

"What were we supposed to expect when you ran off to Europe in '98?" Jill asked. "You didn't tell any of us where you were going, or why. You just got up and left."

"That's a different matter entirely," Chris responded.

"How?" Jill asked. "What made it so different?"

"Besides the fact that I was trying to break into Umbrella HQ?" Chris replied. "I was trying to save lives, remember?"

"Maybe Leon had a little life-saving to do of his own," Jill answered. "Maybe he had to save his own."

_Save his own…_those words still echoed in Chris' mind as he stood staring at the picture. He felt anger…that was undeniable. But a small, miniscule part of him felt pain, too. Jill was right. He had respected Leon once. Hell, he even called the guy his brother. He turned around and saw Claire standing behind him, still in her t-shirt and pants.

"What are you doing here so late?" she asked. "It's after ten."

"I came over to see how you were doing," he quickly answered. "I know that had to be quite a shock today."

"Yeah," she quietly answered. Chris felt beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He reached up and wiped them as he hung his head.

"Claire, I…" he stuttered. "I'm sorry…for what I did tonight. What I did was wrong. I can understand you being upset with me, but…"

"I know, Chris," she answered. "What you did was foolish, outrageous, and just plain _stupid_. But I know why you did it." 

"At least one of us does," he said. "I mean…I…oh, Jesus."

"Don't worry about it, Chris," Claire answered. "Who knows? It'll make sense to all of us someday. Someday soon, I hope, but I think it'll happen."

"Look, if Jill calls," Chris began. "Then I went out for a drive, ok? Tell her I'll be back soon." He turned and walked down the steps and out the door. 

Leon sat and watched the Cavalier pull out of the drive and vanish among the nightlights on Mason Road. He saw his chance. He gunned the cycle's engine and took off down the street. 

"It's now or never," he told himself as he pulled the bike into the driveway. He killed the engine and walked the bike up the drive, finally resting it on the kickstand. He stepped off of the bike and was immediately met by his legs nearly turning to rubber.

_Jesus, I'm not a teenager anymore,_ he thought with a laugh. _So why the hell am I so nervous?_ He smiled as he stepped his way through the yard and onto the front porch. His leg began to shake a little as he knocked on the large mahogany door. He stood for a couple of minutes, and still nobody answered. He knocked again. Still, no answer. Leon shook his head as he turned around and started back for the driveway.

"JUST A MINUTE!!" he heard in Sherry's high-pitched voice. He turned back around to the door and stood. The door opened wide, and there he saw Sherry.

"Can I…oh, my God," she stuttered. Tears began welling in her eyes.

"Been a long time, kid," Leon said quietly. She ran towards him and jumped up into his open arms. She began crying uncontrollably as she held onto him.

"Shhh," Leon soothed. "It's all right. No need to wake up China." She could only smile: Leon had told her that many times before, after they made it out of Raccoon and she had terrible nightmares. He put Sherry down and poked his head inside the door. 

"Do you mind…" he began. She didn't need him to finish.

"Not at all," she said, wiping her eyes. "Come on, get in here." They walked in, and Leon sat down on the couch. Sherry sat next to him, and began rattling off what had happened: school stuff, boys she'd dated, just the usual teenage stuff. Leon only listened with half an ear, but he'd always smile and nod to make her think that he really understood what she was saying. He only had one thing on his mind.

"Uh, Sherry?" he interrupted. "Is…Claire here?" Sherry sat and looked at him a moment. 

"Yeah," she said. "She's asleep, I think. Do you want me to go get her?" Leon stood up and shook his head.

"I think I'll go," he said. "Look, if I'm still here tomorrow, then I'll let you talk my ear off. But I really need to talk to Claire right now, ok?" Sherry gave Leon a smile.

"OK, I think I can deal with that," Sherry nearly laughed. "Go talk to her." Leon took off his jacket and laid it on the couch; then he turned towards the staircase. He climbed up and turned down the hall and stood a minute outside her door. His breath was heavy and his heart was about to thrust out his chest. It took every bit of control he had just to keep from turning and walking back out the door. But he had the control, and he knew what he had to do. He quietly opened the door and carefully stepped into the room. She was there: asleep, her back turned to him. He made his way over to the bed and sat down. He put a hand on her cheek. She softly sighed in her sleep. He couldn't think of a way to wake her up. He moved his hand, stood up, and walked over to the other side where he could see her face. He got down on his knees and rested his arms on the bed.

_God, she looks like an angel,_ he thought, admiring her face as she slept. She let out a small groan.

"Chris, do you know what time it is?" she groaned, half asleep. "Jeez, I'll talk to you in the morning." He could only smile.

"It's not Chris," he whispered. "It's me." She barely opened her eyes, and blinked. 

Claire couldn't believe it. She nearly leapt out of the bed, but instead she just sat up. 

"Leon," she gasped. She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't speak.

"It's ok," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I know it's late…but…but I had to see you."

"Why?" is all she could manage.

"It's kind of complicated," he said as he stood up. "But the biggest part of it is…I think I've finally realized just what I've lost. And if it's not too late, I would like to have another shot at it."

"That's not what I meant," Claire said. "Why did you leave? Why did you stay away for so long? Why did you do this to me?" Leon sighed. He couldn't think of an answer for that one that would be easy to explain. 

"I…" he began. "I was confused. After all we went through…losing Dad…all of the other stuff…it had me thinking that maybe that life here wasn't what I thought it would be. That maybe I could find something out there better. Well, I was wrong. Instead of finding happiness, I was running from it. I always knew it somewhere inside of me, but I just tried to block it. I told myself after I left and I began to realize just what I had back here…I told myself that it would be weakness just to come back. So I couldn't. Me and my god-damned pride. But right now, I just don't care anymore. Screw my pride. 'Cause I've found where I want to be. And that's right here with you."

Claire looked at him, speechless. So many thoughts…so many emotions were racing through her mind at the time. She couldn't think of what to say.

"I know you're angry with me," he said. "I'm angry at myself. What I did was stupid…unforgivable, in my book. I can only hope you can forgive me. I was selfish…uncaring…and I want to fix that. I'll understand if you say no. But please, although I don't deserve it, give me another chance." Leon stood facing her. She had a confused look on her face. But she wouldn't answer him. 

"Well, I guess that's that," he said. "I'll go ahead and go now." He turned back for the door and opened it.

"Wait!" Claire shouted. Leon turned around, and she flew into his arms.

"Promise me now," she cried. "Promise me now that you'll never leave me again."

"I promise," he whispered. "I swear."

Leon woke up the next morning, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was. Suddenly, he remembered what happened that night. He had laid there and held Claire until she fell asleep, and he remembered that he wasn't far behind. He sat up and scratched the back of his head. Heck, he hadn't even bothered to take his dusty jeans or dirty boots off. He stood up and headed for the bedroom door.

"Hey," he heard. Claire had woken up, and was looking at him. "Where are you going?" He smiled and walked over to her. He bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Just getting a clean shirt," he said. "Probably should get a shower too."

"OK," she replied. "I should be getting up and around, too." He bent down again and kissed her lips.

"You do that," he said. He stood back up and walked out the door and down the stairs. He headed back out to his bike and opened one of the side pouches, enabling access to his old leather backpack. He pulled it out and headed back for the house. Once inside he headed for the bathroom, undressed, and climbed into the shower.

"Hey Sis!" he heard. _Oh, shit!_ he thought. "You up? Some whack-job's parked his motorcycle in your driveway."

"Well," he heard her begin. "I know who's it is. It's not a problem."

"Oh yeah? Who's is it?"

"A friend."

"Who?"

"Why do you care?"

Silence. 

"Oh, no, Claire. You didn't."

"And if I did?"

"Where is the sorry little bastard?"

"It's none of your worry, Chris. You don't make my decisions."

"I can't believe you're letting this little worm trick you again!"

"It's my choice, Chris. Not yours. So just live with it."

"I'm not going to do it! I'm not going to let him do this to you again!"

Chris was seeing red. How could she let him deceive her again? It was time to finish this. 

"I swear to God, I'll…"

"Kill me?" he heard. "If it makes you feel that much better, than do it." Chris looked behind him and there he stood. The same lean, muscular build. Dressed in typical Leon-style: t-shirt and old blue jeans. He'd ditched the goatee, but his wet hair was strewn about his shoulders. He reached into a small leather backpack on the couch and pulled out his father's fifty-caliber magnum. He rammed a clip into it, checked the safety, and tossed it to Chris. "Here, this should do the job."

Chris stood there and looked at him, stunned for a moment. He rolled the magnum in his hands. What was Leon trying to prove? Chris' face contorted in confusion. 

"Obviously there's something about me that's eating you, Chris," Leon continued. "And for some reason or another you can't see my intentions for coming back, and it's damn near impossible for you to forgive me. So if killing me is my only hope for atonement, then by all means, Chris, do it." Claire's face contorted in pain as she saw her brother raise the gun. Leon only smiled and spread his arms. Chris kicked off the safety and aimed the pistol at Leon's head.

Chris grunted and lowered the gun. He put the safety back on and threw the gun to the ground. He turned from Leon and walked out the door.

__

Epilogue

The sun shone a bright red as it was beginning to set for the night. It was one of those little things that Leon had forgotten to admire. But now there was time for that. There was time for all of those little things. And he had Claire beside him. That only made things better.

In the following days, Chris had been rather slow, if anything, in trying to forget and forgive, so to say. But sooner or later he had, and now, things were slowly returning back to normal. As he sat on the grassy knoll, he looked up at the red sky, and wondered how he could ever have left all of this behind, and actually hoped to find _something better_? It was a joke.

"Hey," he heard. Claire was next to him, wrapped up in his arms. "It's getting a little late. Do you think we should be heading back?"

"Nah," Leon replied. "Let them worry. We're just fine here." She closed her eyes and smiled. Leon turned back to his thoughts, and he realized something that he should have realized a long time ago:

__

I'm finally happy.

__

A/N: Jeez, it took me a LONG TIME to finish this! But, it's over, and it's just another chapter in my sub-par writing "career." Anyway, I would like to thank a person by the name of Bethan (I'm not sure of her real name, her ff.net name, or anything else, actually) who gave me some really good ideas, although they quite wouldn't conform to the story. Anyway, it was enough to get me back writing again!


End file.
